


A Little death

by Boji



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Consensual Kink, Consensual Violence, M/M, Originally Posted Elsewhere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-18
Updated: 2008-01-18
Packaged: 2018-02-18 12:36:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2348669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Boji/pseuds/Boji
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>John Hart leaves a vid-message on the <i>Torchwood</i> system. </b><br/><i>Spoilers:</i> Torchwood 2:01 - Kiss, Kiss, Bang Bang.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Little death

**Author's Note:**

> I thought this would be porny third person description. 
> 
> Instead my muse gets this first person monologue from John Hart. Set in the tangential space after Cpt. John discovers Jack can't die, in the editing gap between the scene in the hub's lab and the one in Jack's office. Begins close to canon & then goes a tad AU.
> 
> * * *

Before the Agency was a casualty of the war, do-overs were measured. Rationed out they were, like anti-grav meds and happy stims. Do-overs were something you got called in front of the review board to justify. Murder? You can argue that away as a mishap, but Reapers screaming across time and space 'cos you buggered up your assignment? You'd be lucky if you were cleaning out cadet shuttle latrines with your dental wipes. And that on a Monday after weekend furlough when everyone's soused to the gills.

Then, it didn't matter anymore. Nothing fucking mattered, short of ending the bloody 'verse that is. And the next big high? It was as flat as the last. 

And there was no one to share a joke with. No one who gave a shit if your feet were cold in the middle of the night. No one to know if your smile hides a scream trapped long ago. Your own, or someone else's. I don't remember but I know he does. And yeah, I was good at the killing, we both were - Jack and I - until he decided that he could twist pleasure just as easily as pain - and still get answers to the questions he popped. Not squeamish Jack. Doesn't have a soft belly you can strike either. Ask me, I think he gave up the killing cos... well, in terms of body fluids he's fastidious he is. Hates it on his clothes, isn't likely to quaff piss like he'll down champagne. 

Me?

I was the kid sucking the skin off glow-bees just to feel the sting against my lips. My idea of safe sex? Going to bed with a dagger strapped to your arm. Blood and cum? Both as salty as each other, yum. Not much of a step from that to reaching up, palming someone's neck so that their carotid artery pulses under your fingertips, then pressing, pushing, waiting as they rasp and cough _just_ the way they did when seed was sputtering out of their cockhead. 

Watching light fade from someone's eyes, heartbeat by heartbeat... it's the ultimate power. The ultimate orgasm. 

And now you know why murder rehab didn't take, don't you? And why my cock has never been as hard as it was when Jack walked back into the hub, grinned, wriggled and told me he can't fucking die. And he _knew_ what he was doing to me the bastard. Knew damn well that he could stand there with that bloody grin, mouthing off, and me leaking in my fucking pants like a brat who's failing basic. 

Didn't mean to push him off the bloody building. Really. He dropped my canister and I reached out and dropped him. It wasn't real 'til he fell, lay there a broken toy. And even then... he was still so beautiful. And his unseeing eyes... 

That gaze, yeah well don't think it didn't ... don't think I... Jack? He's long meant something to me and even if he'll deny me - well I don't want him gone. Don't want him eradicated from _future's path_ , consigning me to lukewarm do-overs. And he knows that, bastard. Swanning down the stairs so fucking alive. Brimming over with it, life, hope and fucking beauty.

That's why I flipped the switch and took us out of step - just a second or thirty - handy thing a souped up wrist-strap. Enough time so that I could slide my hand up under his shirt, under his t-shirt. I kept his heart beat there, under my palm, for a long, frozen, moment. Then another. And that would have been it, right? Wasn't planning to pinch his nipple or dig my nail in hard, just the way that makes him buck his hips. Wasn't planning to work at taking the edge off that sharp, angry, grin he'd been wearing half the night. 

Yeah, okay that's bollocks. 

I'd have rather had his gorgeous, fat, prick in my arse than push his face into broken glass, but you take what you can get. Anger, passion, anything's better than apathy. Wonder if he's taught you kiddies that yet?

There you all were, his team on pause, and I'm kissing Jack, really kissing Jack. Mouth full of tongue. Hands full of hair, balls full of seed. If you'd unfrozen far enough to ask, I'd have said I only gave a shit about the diamond. But then, I'd have to have taken Jack's tongue out of my mouth to say so, and damn if I wasn't going to do that before he made me. 

He did twist out of my armlock, and pocket the diamond mind. It's why I followed him up the stairs. And all regal and ridiculous, he starts in with: _'We do this and then you're gone,'_ and I'm... Well, I may have mentioned that our time was always a moment _out_ of time, or some such bollocks.

We didn't kiss again, not 'til we got to the conference room. And he didn't ask me to move us into phase again. Just let the wrist-monitor blink as fast as my buggering pulse while I was getting seen to, trousers down around my boot-tops.

Nice table, you've got. Good height. Sturdy too. And while he was pushing me into the polished veneer, I'm pretending I don't see the sensor cams. Well, might as well leave him something to John-off to when I'm gone, swanning off across the interstellar drift. I am swanning off across the interstellar drift right? He didn't... he didn't finish me did he?

Not sure who's watching this. Not sure if it's Eye Candy or his Girl Friday. But I think it's probably the tech-fairy. Hears all, Sees all. And you won't speak evil of me now will you? And if your hand wants to edge down to that tailored waistband and go a-wondering, well I'm happy to tell you what we did on that bloody brilliant conference table - If you keep an eye on Jack for me. 

Where he was, it was bad. Worse than a gulag on _Tartarus_ 5\. He wears the nightmare on his skin. Which is why I've piggybacked a frequency that should get wrist-com reception, in case of emergency. It's how I knew he vanished. Couldn't triangulate him anywhere or anywhen. And that... well it takes a lot to frighten me. Still if I hadn't lost Jack I wouldn't have found Gray. 

What did we do while you all stood there like somnambulist lemmings? Said I'd say didn't I?

 

Jack pushed back. Pushed my... what you call them in the twenty-first century? Oh yeah, kinks. He pressed a letter opener into my hand, let me slide it up under his rib cage, then push the metal edge into his heart, just as I thrust into his tight arsehole. Shafting him, stabbing him, his legs heavy over my arms, his neck arched and his adams apple bobbing in his throat. I was in balls deep, watching him fight to catch his final breath, fight to come, before his heart stopped beating. My cock harder than my bloody sword, his seed spattered across his belly and mixing with streams of blood. Think it's sick? That I was fucking him on a table slick with blood and sweat, the feel of him tight around my shaft, so sweet fucking tears were actually burning my eyes? 

We're not over sweeting, Jack and I. Even if he thinks we are. I knew that when he was lying there _stopped_ , as lifeless as an inactive sex automaton. He gave me the gift of his death while I was _in_ him. Brought me as close to feeling that spark of life as if I'd flat-lined and he was bringing me back with his bare hands. Nothing is as real. Nothing, and that memory of Jack gasping for that first in-breath in my arms no one can carve that memory, that fucking rebirth, out of my head. 

Won't help them find him either. Which is why I'll be staying away for a while, leading them on a merry dance until I can meet up with Gray.

Told Jack I'd check that we're not on the security feed... bare-arsed and thrusting. Didn't tell him that I'd leave a message... but you came through, tried and tested you did. Plus you're sweet on Doctor-boy, so you should be able to watch Jack's back for me without getting your emotions in a pretty twist.

Your knickers? Have at it. 

The file is sitting on your internet server attached to an e-mail if you want to watch.

Watch Jack for me girlie. Guard his back.


End file.
